Black Lives Matter. Period.

I felt that I needed to watch the videos of George Floyd as he was murdered. It seemed like the least I could do, to bear witness, whether I wanted to or not. 

I took me multiple tries to make it through those things. I finally watched a New York Times summary account of the videos all the way through. 

I was struck by the people on the sidewalk who remonstrated with the police officers, trying to get them to stop holding Mr George down. It stunned me that the officer who had his knee in Mr George’s neck reached for a weapon to threaten these people. 

I know that a lot of people reacted to what they saw with anger and rage. I just felt run over. It took everything out of me, like someone poured all my strength out on the ground. 

Even now, I am too sad to really say much, too sad to offer words that will help anyone else. I’ve been praying. Just … praying. 

I’ve prayed for Mr George’s poor soul, and for his family and the people who loved him. I’ve prayed for America and for the many good people, of every race and creed, who are Americans. I’ve prayed for conversion of heart throughout this land. I’ve prayed for priests and bishops who follow Christ and preach Christ instead of politics. I’ve prayed for healing and love and conversion to Jesus. 

I watched that video, and something in me just said Enough. If you want to see what a post Christian country looks like, watch that thing. 

There is only one answer to what ails us and that answer is true humility before the Cross. We need to stop yammering about the petty incidentals of formula and cant and remember Who He is and who we are. 

We are the created ones. We are the finite, fallen, sheep of His pasture who, without our Good Shepherd, will perish by our own sins and stupidity. 

I am so profoundly sorry that George Floyd is dead. I want to hug him and tell him that he is me and you and everyone who ever felt a knee to the neck in our lives. I would give anything if there was a way to undo this terrible thing that was done to him. 

I would join the protests, but I’m under doctor’s orders to stay home and.I think my family would lock me in my bedroom if I tried. But I can do something even better than protest by walking down a street. I can pray. And I can live a life that speaks love by my actions. 

Black lives matter. Of course they do. It’s obscene that we have to say this, that it’s necessary to make the point.

Black lives matter.